Yesterday, a dapper Nazi was punched while giving an interview about how the white race has an inborn right to domination. (I am not naming him in an effort to shield myself from the attention of his ilk; I imagine his identity is easily ascertainable via Google, if you don’t already know what I’m talking about.) I, and many in my social media circles, exulted in this event — someone advocating outright Nazism was humiliated and silenced. It was a cathartic moment in the midst of terrifying events.
And of course, the nice liberals won’t let us have this. Continue reading “On the punch”
Martin Luther King, Jr., famously said, “The arc of history is long, but it bends toward justice.” We can take this to be the standard liberal-progressive way of looking at the arc of history.
There are two other possible variations:
- that of the reactionary right: “The arc of history is long, but it bends toward vengeance.”
- that of the revolutionary left: “The arc of history is long and it’s going to keep getting longer unless we put a stop to it.”
In Australia and New Zealand, I was often asked after my lectures whether I thought Trump was a neoliberal. I answered that since neoliberalism is a specific set of ideas, it was unlikely to be within Trump’s grasp. Then, on a more serious note, I said that I really don’t think he is neoliberal and that I would actually prefer standard neoliberalism to Trump. Indeed, that preference guided my vote for Hillary Clinton, the virtual incarnation of neoliberalism, over Trump.
If we grant for the moment that Trump is not neoliberal, how does the Trump phenomenon stand in relationship to neoliberalism? The most common narrative seems to be that neoliberalism atomizes the social body, leading to a right-wing explosion of nationalism or other revanchist forms of social identification. In this narrative, the right-wing reaction is somehow external to neoliberalism — it just so happens that these national or racial identities persist from previous eras, as it were — but necessarily entailed as a predictable backlash. This narrative strikes me as a variation on the well-known theory that racial and national identities are extrinsic “distractions” from the reality of economic exploitation.
I don’t find that narrative very satisfying as an answer. Continue reading “Trump and neoliberalism”
There’s a lot that’s interesting about Randall Balmer’s recent lamentation over evangelical support for Trump, but I think his argument is hamstrung by his equivocation on the term “evangelical.” The bad evangelicals we know today are contrasted with the better, more authentically pious evangelicals of the past, who had not yet sold out to power and wealth.
In my opinion, it is more accurate to view American “evangelicalism” as something new, something that came into existence in and as the “religious right.” This is not to say, of course, that our evangelicals have no genealogical roots in the more pietistic and fundamentalist strands of American Christianity. But the idea that “evangelicals” were once all about proper theology and have since turned to politics is wrong. Evangelicalism in the contemporary American sense of the term has always and only been a political movement — a form of identity politics that has always tied together Jesus, America, and whiteness.
And it has always been utterly theologically vacuous. It is not an attempt to build on past traditions, but to erase them and replace them with a generic “non-denominational” vision of Christianity that is taken as self-evident (despite coming from God knows where). I had a front row seat as generic evangelicalism cannibalized the Church of the Nazarene, and the signature gesture was always to downplay or even belittle whatever was distinctive in Nazarene doctrine and practice in favor of one-size-fits-all, “seeker-sensitive,” wannabe megachurch pablum. All that’s left over from pietism and revivalism is the shallow emotionalism of tearing up while you belt out a chorus for twentieth time.
Generic evangelicalism claims to be all about biblical innerancy. Yet it doesn’t have the courage of its conviction when it comes to biblical literalsm, as the kind of classical fundamentalist apologetics explaining away apparent inconsistencies is absent. Evangelicalism has never produced anything to match the rigor of a document of the heroic era of fundamentalism such as the Scofield Reference Bible. Generic evangelicalism effectively has no biblical hermeneutic whatsoever, aside from the sheer opportunism that makes the Bible out to be a divinely inspired cross between the Wall Street Journal editorial page and a management self-help book.
There’s nothing inconsistent about evangelicals buying into Trump’s posturing and nihilism, because evangelicalism is itself nothing but posturing and nihilism. To paraphrase Karl Barth, evangelicalism was always “the invention of the anti-Christ,” an attempt to develop an American natural theology that turns whites into a chosen nation. They’re not “falling for” Trump, and if we view them as being somehow deceived, it’s only because they bought into a bigger lie long ago.
“Look, the Enlightenment is dead, may it rest in peace.”
An interview with Michel Houellebecq made its way into my twitter timeline. While I am tempted to read this new book I will admit at the outset that so far I’ve never finished a Houellebecq novel. I tried Atomised (or The Elementary Particles in the US translation), but it just felt a bit like sub-Vonnegut, self-indulgent gloominess. Of course there is plenty to be gloomy about, though I suspect Houellebecq is one of those contrarian types who in the drive to stake out their own purity shit on everyone else, especially those who are already not counted or are counted as less by the hegemonic forces in whatever society. So, in France that would of course include feminists (to a certain extent, for there is a form of feminism determined by the Enlightenment tradition that is rather reactionary) and immigrants (specifically postcolonial immigrants from North Africa). Reading the interview I felt more secure in my intuitions regarding Houellebecq, but in the midst of his clear trolling there was something like an insight. While there are moments of insight in Houellebecq’s own words, like the rather blunt pronouncement on the mainstream Enlightenment undergirding contemporary French identity, mostly I saw his remarks as simply manifesting a symptom that tells us something about European anxiety today. Continue reading “Mapping European Anxiety Between Conversion and Submission”
One thing that is perhaps surprising about Being and Time, for someone familiar with the later Heidegger and with the continental tradition that grew out of his work, is how positive it seems to be about science. He never denies that science is extremely powerful or that it produces true and useful results, and in chapter 2 of division 1, he seems to grant its role as a “primary mode of Being-in-the-World” a certain legitimacy. The purpose of the analytic of Being is not to call science into question but to provide the kind of robust conceptual underpinning that they all need — and the contemporaneous “crises” in the various sciences (as listed in the introduction) demonstrate that the sciences themselves are calling out for just this kind of operation. The problem with scientific knowledge is that it has covered over its own deepest sources and obscured our view of the phenomenon of Being-in-the-World, but presumably once this has been secured, science will be able to achieve ever greater things that comport more fully with what is most important about human existence.
It strikes me that, without the benefit of hindsight, one could view fascism — including its local German variant of Nazism — as a marriage of technology with the authentic lifeworld of the people, and that one could view Communism as an attempt to uproot that lifeworld once and for all. And after fascism’s horrifying crimes and ultimate failure, one could then say: “I see where I went wrong — it was granting legitimacy to technology!” Hence his infamous gloss of “the inner truth and greatness of National Socialism” as “the encounter between global technology and modern humanity” — and so the way to get past the mistake of Nazism is to turn against technology itself as inherently hostile to the authentic lifeworld of the people.
With the benefit of hindsight, of course, the original judgment of fascism seems obviously stupid, and the explanation of how he was able to make that mistake also seems pretty dumb. Hence, perhaps, the almost universally shared position among “left Heideggerians” that there is something trite about Heidegger’s famous critiques of technology.
This is of course over-simplified and likely unoriginal. Still, what do you think, dear readers?
Before the advent of Stand Your Ground laws, to claim self-defense you had to demonstrate that you genuinely had no other option. Violence was supposed to be a last resort, and even if the other guy clearly started it, you had no legal defense if you gratuitously escalated the conflict when you could have walked away. This approach makes sense as a way of balancing out the state’s claim to a monopoloy on legitimate violence and the individual citizen’s inalienable rights — in the last resort, everyone is entitled to do what’s necessary to preserve their own life, but it genuinely has to be the last resort.
With Stand Your Ground, a new regime has arisen in which the presumption of de-escalation no longer holds. Instead, the law functions to actively encourage the escalation of violent confrontations and defends the actions taken in that context regardless of “who started it” or whether another option was possible. Under the old regime, I think it’s pretty clear that George Zimmerman would have been found guilty of murder, because he initiated the confrontation and stuck with it when he could have easily run away. Stand Your Ground removes those standards — it’s as though the state is saying, “No, don’t walk away, we want to see how this plays out.” And that seems difficult to square with traditional state sovereignty.
What is going on here? Continue reading ““Stand Your Ground” and sovereignty”
Many people have been asking the rhetorical question, “What if Zimmerman and Martin’s races had been reversed? Would a black man be allowed to ‘stand his ground’?” It’s obvious that the result would have been very, very different, and so this is a good way of highlighting the racism involved. Yet it seems to me to be a little too abstract. This isn’t about racism in general — it’s about the racist structure of law enforcement. We should be asking, “What if Zimmerman had been a cop?” And the answer is, if anything, more appalling: we probably never would have heard about this incident in the first place.
I don’t pretend to have exhaustive knowledge of the case, but the local police do not seem to have treated Zimmerman as just “some guy.” He was well known to them as a neighborhood watch volunteer and was in fact in radio contact with them when carrying out his “duties.” He clearly wanted very much to be in law enforcement — and his idea of what law enforcement does in this country is to control the black population by keeping them within their designated areas. We talk about the “militarization” of the police, and in addition to all the ridiculous weapons they now equip themselves with, they appear to think of their encounters with the black community in terms of a war. Ideally, the “rule of engagement” would prevent the deaths of innocents, but at the end of the day, you’d rather that an enemy teenager die than one of your own guys be over-cautious and wind up dead.
If an actual cop had shot Trayvon Martin, he wouldn’t have been arrested, either. There would have been protests, but there would have been no national attention and no trial. But this only happened because the local police in Sanford, Florida, appeared to regard Zimmerman as more or less one of their own — hence he walked away, hence he got a lackluster prosecution, etc. This isn’t just about some crazy white dude who up and shot a black teenager, nor is it simply about white people’s fear of black people. This is about the structure of the police violence that devestates the black community every day.
It was only Zimmerman’s self-appointed “unpaid internship” as a cop that allowed this event to register in the national discourse as something “wrong,” and that unofficial status risks obscuring the real stakes here. The problem isn’t just that Zimmerman was white and Trayvon Martin was black (as we’ve heard endlessly, actually Zimmerman is Hispanic…) — the problem is that Zimmerman was effectively a cop and Trayvon Martin was black.
So James KA Smith has often been a proponent of Radical Orthodox Christian political theology being “beyond left and right”, you know like Benedict XVI was. In recent days on his twitter feed he has come out against gay marriage. That is not surprising, though he’s of course couching it as a question of who gets to define marriage and doing so in an utterly idealist manner (so the state doesn’t get to in his view, but no discussion of how the state supports marriage and how that plays out in terms of equality). But he has also come out in support of the state of emergency provisions imposed by Michigan Governor Synder (R, of course) upon the City of Detroit. Suspending its democratically elected city government and installing an unelected “business manager” (we all know what this means…). He will bristle and sneer at this being called fascist, but this is exactly fascism. The state and capitalism coming together under a state of emergency. And the Christian witness to that fascism is a sneer at critical voices and an expression that the installed, unaccountable leader be a “catalyst for indigenous change”.
So, once again we see that beyond left and right always means right-wing policies plus a few token remarks about community and poverty. Or, like I said with Benedict, Bonoism but no gays.
It has always puzzled me that some people can look at something like public provision of health insurance and see a fateful step toward tyranny and oppression. What this requires is a suspicion of “the state” simply as such, and it seems to me that Foucault was right to say that the greatest achievement of the early neoliberal theorists was to convince seemingly everyone in the world that the lesson to be drawn from the experience of “totalitarianism” is the dangers stemming from excessive state power.
In fact, if there is anything to be gained by placing the Nazi and Soviet experiences under the same conceptual heading, it cannot be a lesson about the dangers of state power — indeed, it has to be just the opposite: the dangers of a weak and impotent state that cannot restrain the power of a para-state movement. Continue reading “Fear of the state”